


Thaw To Bring Green

by navree



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, I've been shipping this since their first scene, Switching Sides, so it's time to write some nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navree/pseuds/navree
Summary: And maybe it's because Esme's gorgeous, or maybe it's because she's emotionally fragile right now, but Lorna feels a brief flicker of something.Lorna joins The Hellfire Club and follows in her father's footsteps. Esme is very pleased by this turn of events. Lorna finds that she is too.





	Thaw To Bring Green

**Author's Note:**

> Never really shipped Eclaris becaus I'm always That Ho who's incapable of shipping the canon couples, and I've absolutely fallen down the rabbit hole of these two.  
> as always, comments (either positive or constructive) are always welcome and much appreciated!

There's an outfit laid out on the bed when she comes back, and a Stepford Cuckoo there to accompany it. Slender legs crossed over each other, thighs clad in tights disappearing under a plaid skirt, with her arms leaning back on the bed, as if inviting something salacious. Lorna sighs, heavily and with every emotion she can possibly convey, kicking off her boots unceremoniously. 

"Which one are you?" she asks derisively. "Doc, Grumpy, or Dopey?" The blond laughs, high and tinkling, as if Lorna has just said something incredibly amusing. 

"Esme," is her response. "You seriously can't recognize me, after all the time we spent together?" 

"You're all identical." Jacket shrugged off, tossed into the corner, and Lorna motions for Esme-if it is Esme, how can she be sure with these pathological liars-to move off her bed. They managed to fix the mangled metal frame from her latest outburst. The blond complies to her request to move, and Lorna goes to examine what's been laid out for her. It's a shiny thing, filled with sharp angles and silvery sparkles and black cloth, something that seems completely out of the realm of possibility and yet entirely her at the same time. 

"Telepath, remember?" Esme tells her, as if a response to a silent question she has yet to ask. Lorna drops the jacket and whirls around to face her, feeling the first flickers of anger in her stomach. 

"What did I say about staying out of my head?" Esme takes a quick step back, though her expression remains the same. _Good_ , Lorna thinks viciously, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Maybe that inkling of fear would prevent her from trying to mess in her mind again. "It's an ugly thing to do, you know that right? Messing with someone's thoughts. It hurts people." 

"You sound like a human." Esme spits out the word spitefully, and Lorna bristles. "I can't just turn this on and off like a tap. It's not a phase, or a trick. It's a part of me, of my DNA. Just like you and your metal bending." 

"Sure, except..." The words die on Lorna's tongue. What was she going to say, that her abilities didn't hurt people? That was empirically false. They'd seen the result of her abilities, the carnage of it, the dead bodies and the scraps of metal, the flames that came from her power. And she couldn't even argue against emotional hurt, not when she'd seen the devastated looks on her friends' faces. Lorna deflates slightly, staring at the ground. She hears the click of heels as Esme makes her way over to her, hesitantly, quietly. When Lorna looks up, Esme's face seems right above her. 

"You did what you had to do." The words are almost a comfort, almost sympathetic, but Lorna fights to remind herself that they are liars, these Stepford Cuckoos, and she shouldn't trust a damn thing she says. She wants to, somehow, deep down, and it's an active fight not to. 

"I know that," Lorna snaps, turning away again. "I don't regret doing it, I don't regret doing what was necessary to help our kind." Esme stares down at her, and Lorna fidgets, uncomfortable at the way she's being examined. "What?" 

"Some people here didn't think I was right." Again, Lorna looks back up. Esme's face is soft, softer than she's ever seen it. And maybe it's because Esme's gorgeous, or maybe it's because she's emotionally fragile right now, but Lorna feels a brief flicker of something. As with everything else, she tries hard to bury it. But it's stubborn, this tiny candle flame, and it takes some hard pushing to put it away. "To try and recruit you. To try and get you to join us. But I knew you were worth it Lorna." She shudders when Esme says her name, and the blond sits gingerly next to her on the bed. 

"Why?" She looks at her, and Esme stares back steadily. She was right, it was easy to differentiate her from her two siblings. There was something different about Esme, something more personal, something more approachable, ever so slightly warmer.

"You're not a half measure, Lorna." Again, her name on the telepath's lips, almost musical. "Your friends, your boyfriend-" _Ex_ , Lorna thinks to herself. She and Marcos are finished now that the people on that plane are dead, she knows that. "They can't do what needs to be done. You can. You know that this fight needs someone who's all in, no matter the cost." Esme ducks her head, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear almost shyly. "We think the same. It's why I liked you so much." 

"Huh." There's less acidity in her tone than there had been in a while, at least when directed at any of these Stepford Cuckoos. Because, if she's honest, she had liked Esme too, when she'd first shown up at the Mutant Underground. She'd been pretty and witty and yes, had a tendency to boss everyone around and _yes_ , had proved to be lying to them the entire time, but in that brief moment when she had been nothing more than a fellow member of their kind in jeopardy, Lorna had grown to like her. It's different now, of course, in this limbo between contempt and like, where she may or may not be a member of the Hellfire Club, and may or may not be in the midst of a rapprochement with Esme, but it doesn't negate the past. 

"I should leave you." The spell is broken as Esme stands, and moves to get Lorna's discarded jacket in the corner. "Just leave the clothes in a pile outside the door, and someone'll come and get rid of them." Lorna scoffs. 

"What makes you think I want to get ride of my clothes?" she demands. Esme's response is a look of utter condescension, but there's something fond mixed in it now, something that twists in Lorna's chest like one of her knives. 

"They're riddled with holes and look like they haven't been washed in a bit." Still with the jacket on her arm, Esme moves back towards to the bed where Lorna still sits. "Don't worry Lorna." She takes a strand of green hair between her index and middle finger and twirls around. Lorna feels something thrum up her spine. "You can still keep up your tough girl aesthetic. Just with nicer clothes." She smiles, a real smile, but with an enigmatic twist, and then leaves, the clack of her heels on the floor echoing against the walls until it fades away. 

With a groan, Lorna falls back against the bed, feeling the outfit next to her rustle at the impact of her weight against the comforter. The silver of the jacket gleams in the corner of her eye, a reminder of something strange and elusive. Lorna shuts her eyes tight, and yet all she can see behind closed lids is blond hair and the blue gleam of the eyes of the Stepford Cuckoos. Of Esme. 


End file.
